The Things We Learn

Last evening our eldest daughter, Evie, called us. She is now 54 and has her own stories and memories to share. She asked if I remembered her high school, Ronda. I did and she went on to read me an email she’d received. It was uplifting, fresh breath of air, sweet memories from years gone by.

Evie and Ronda became friends because they were both taller than their classmates. They wore the same size shoe.

It was the fad in those days, as I understand it, for girls to wear panty hose and knee socks. It made their legs look tan, she said. Barb said no panty hose. I suppose we thought that was the end of it. Not until last night did we learn that Ronda brought a pair of panty hose for Evie to wear.

Then there were the red shoes. She had explicit instructions about never trading shoes with other people. Little did we know she trading anyway, that is until the night she forgot and wore the red home.

Ronda was a farmer’s daughter and when she was nine Ronda’s father would let the two of them operate the huge combine, harvesting grass seed, while he had his lunch.

The things we learn.

 

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